The Man with the Storybook Monster
by Ahmerst
Summary: The daily struggle between a man and his merrow. UK/US


Arthur trudged wearily along dry sand, toes digging into the warmth that was quickly beginning to fade with the sun. He paused to roll up the bottoms of his slacks, hiking them up to his knees before taking familiar, even steps towards the shore.

Every movement was set in stone, a daily ritual that could never be broken. Always the walk from his beachfront house to the rickety old dock that had been there since Arthur was a child. Always with a longing look in his eyes and a bittersweet smile curving the edge of his lips.

He trod to the edge of the dock, lowering himself on the edge, bare feet dipping into the chilled water of the sea. The sun crested the waves, setting warm, burning tones rolling across the water. Salty spray kissed against Arthur's cheeks as he sat without speaking or moving, eyes squinted against the constant movement of the waves.

Soon, a slight nibbling pinched at the arches of his feet, tickling and toying. Arthur laughed and tread water for a moment before pulling his feet out. A golden mop of hair surfaced before him, locks lilting with the current, followed by gleaming blue eyes, a childish happiness shining in them.

"Good evening, Alfred," Arthur said warmly, scooting closer to the edge of the dock, letting the waves slosh against his shins.

The rest of Alfred's head surfaced, a cheeky grin painted on his face. He laid his pale and slender fingers on Arthur's knees, hoisting himself up to plant a kiss on Arthur's nose before dipping back into the water. "Hello to you**,** too," he said, hands gently pawing at the waves.

"How was life in the sea today?" Arthur asked, patting his legs invitingly.

"Wet, kind of cold, saw lots of fish, the usual." Alfred folded his forearms across Arthur's thighs before setting his head down on them. "How was land life?"

"Loud, annoying, meaningless." Arthur ran a hand of Alfred's sopping wet hair, fingers combing through briny blond tangles. Alfred's eyes fluttered shut, chest heaving with a contented sigh. His arms slipped back into the water, winding around the back of Arthur's calves in a hug.

They didn't need to say they loved each other. They didn't need to say anything at all. Their thoughts, opinions, joys and sorrows, all were conveyed through tender touch and comfortable silence. The sea pulled and pushed at Alfred, his grip growing fiercer as the water tugged at him, loosening as the waves gave him an apologetic push back towards Arthur.

Lower limbs beginning to submit to the numbing coldness of the water, Arthur tapped lightly on Alfred's shoulder. "C'mon, up you go."

Alfred obediently slid off Arthur, his body submerging up to his chin. Arthur bent at the waist, leaning over the dock as far as he could, arms stretched out expectantly. Alfred stared at Arthur's arms for a moment, eyes growing dull with barely hidden suspicion. Arthur waved slightly, hurrying Alfred on.

With a few strong kicks, Alfred raised his chest from the water. Arthur quickly hooked his arms beneath Alfred's before reeling back, as if he were pulling in the catch of the day. The wet echo of fins slapping against the ocean filled Arthur's ears, and water doused his clothes.

He fell onto his back, spluttering and out of breath, but with Alfred in his arms. Thick coils of muscle contained within scales brushed along his legs, winding and gripping. Arthur rolled onto his side to relieve the weight of Alfred's body.

Alfred smiled, not in the full and beaming fashion that the water always channeled, but instead carrying a worried edge that bit at Arthur's heart and shook his nerves. He rubbed his hand up and down Alfred's arm, sensing the tenseness that lay beneath the skin, wary and overly alert.

Arthur brought his lips to Alfred's, treating him to a warm and reassuring kiss. The tightness in Alfred's body eased slightly, melting into the kiss he returned. Arthur traced his fingers down Alfred's side, drinking in the soft giggles Alfred emitted as Arthur grazed his skin.

Smooth, slippery scales met Arthur's touch as his hand trailed along Alfred's hip, cool and appealing to the rough and calloused skin of Arthur's palm. The tail wound around his legs slackened and fell away, thumping loudly against the wooden planks beneath it, writhing senselessly.

Arthur ran his tongue along Alfred's bottom lip, giving it a few playful nips as he went. Alfred squirmed closer, his body clumsy and cumbersome out of the water. Arthur's tongue greedily lapped at the wet heat of Alfred's mouth, tasting the brackish tinge that he'd grown so used to, even fond of.

Alfred panted lightly, his body warm and willing against Arthur's, fingers searching for purchase. Arthur's hand continued to drift from Alfred's waist and back down to his hip, thoughtfully skimming skin, delighting in the change of fair flesh to sleek scales.

Arthur broke away for a moment to regain his breath, smiling coyly at Alfred's flushed and bewildered face. Every trace of distrust and tension that had overcome him the instant he had left the water had trickled away, swept out with the tide. All that was left was a young and adoring man who took affections at face value. Arthur scrambled to his feet too quickly for his guilt to catch up with him.

Ignoring Alfred's shocked yelp, Arthur hooked him under the arms as he had earlier, but this time from behind. Toes curling and gripping for traction, he lurched away from the water, taking Alfred with him. Alfred's cries mixed with those of the seagulls, his tail flailing uselessly, beating against the sand and throwing it to the wind.

Arthur struggled on, dragging Alfred with all his might. He craned his neck to see his house. It was close, so very, very close. It couldn't be more than two hundred yards. And inside, there was a tub full of warm water just ready for Alfred to sink into.

Arthur gave Alfred a pained smile, Alfred's frantic pleas for release falling upon deaf ears. This was for his own good, after all. No more long days trapped in a dark, underwater world. In Arthur's house he'd have an endless amount of food, none of it tainted with the pollution that the ocean was wracked with, the water always comfortable and clean, no chance of being found by another. It would be for the best.

A solid weight connected with Arthur's legs, his sole warning the split-second glimpse of silver and blue coming right at him. His shoulder hit the sand first, stinging with sharp pain and he turned onto his stomach. Arthur hauled himself to his hands and knees, legs pumping and forcing him back to his feet.

He cast about for Alfred, catching him in the corner of his vision. Alfred was dragging himself, hands clawing at loose sand as his tail twisted violently. Arthur strode across the sand as easily as Alfred cut through water, closing the distance between them in only a few steps.

The fluke of Alfred's tail smashed into Arthur's chest, knocking the breath from him. His knees buckled as he wheezed, struggling for air. His hands shot out in a desperate attempt to keep Alfred from escaping, nails sinking into skin and scale alike. Alfred continued to thrash wildly, making it impossible for Arthur to keep his grip.

With another firm smack, Arthur found himself permanently shaken. By the time he had realised he was grasping at nothing but earth, Alfred was nearly at the water's edge. Arthur watched, head spinning in a daze. Alfred's tail was still flailing recklessly of its own accord, as if trying to swim on land.

It was too long, Alfred had once divulged to Arthur. Too ornate and tapered an appendage to be truly useful in swimming. It weighed him down at all times, catching on seaweed, snagging on rocks. On land it was worse. Like a peacock with its great plume of feathers dragging as it ran, Alfred's beauty was nothing but dead weight.

Arthur rubbed at the soreness in his chest as his breath returned. He wasn't upset that Alfred had lashed out and beaten him away. It was a necessary evil to keep his freedom. Arthur knew that, in return, Alfred would not hold anything against him as well.

A day never passed without Arthur trying to wrench Alfred from the sea, just as it never ended without Alfred escaping. The tactics grew and evolved over time for the both of them. One day Arthur might try brightly colored sweets to lure Alfred out of the water, or offer him the most basic of home appliance magazines to pore over to distract him from what was to come.

And every day, though Alfred would manage to slip away, he would take an inkling longer to make his escape. Slowly but surely he had gone from breaking free the moment he felt Arthur pull, to putting up a fight only in the final furlongs.

Arthur grew more vehement in his unspoken belief that Alfred wanted to come home with him. The tub wasn't much, hardly able to hold even Arthur's body, but it would get better. Arthur would have a pool built, a proper one that was enclosed on all sides. He'd coat the floor of it with sand and shells, even bring fish in for Alfred to play with. Everything would be perfect.

Arthur turned away from the shore as he saw Alfred's fin clap against the waves, the rest of his body hidden beneath them. He'd come back tomorrow, at the same time, at the same spot. Alfred couldn't stay away any more than Arthur could, regardless of their practiced struggle.

A thick web of dark ropes caught Arthur's eye as he walked home. He paused, head cocking questioningly to the side as he tried to make out the shape. Weathered and beaten, an old fisherman's net lay sprawled across a patch of beachgrass. Inspiration hit him like a truck.

Kneeling, Arthur hastily gathered it up in his arms as much as he could, clutching it to his chest like a dear child. He sprang back to his feet and bolted for his house, tearing inside with the rope. He threw it to the floor, his thunderous steps filling the empty house, drawers clattering loudly to the floor as they were yanked from the dresser.

He yanked a bulky sweater over his head, taking the rope and stuffing it beneath the loose folds, the bulge of the net barely visible beneath his clothes. One hand held to his chest, the other snatching a fashion catalog, Arthur flew right back out the door, leaving it open behind him.

Body aching with excitement and adrenaline, he returned in a flash to the dock. He stomped his feet and screamed to the sea. He promised apologies and endless gifts, shouting his pleas to the wind and water. He cried out in all manners of words for Alfred to return. As his voice grew ragged and hoarse, his throat raw and aching, the glimmer of curious blue eyes surfaced before him.

Arthur threw the net too quickly for the his guilt to catch up with him.

* * *

-I always put Alfred in such horrible situations. Why the heck is this?  
-Arthur, I don't care how big your tub is. This isn't going to work.  
-What's the difference between a mermaid/merman and a merrow? I don't know if there is much of one. I think merrows are generally nicer than merfolk, but I'm also pretty sure merrow dudes are uglier than mermen. Heck if I know.  
-I welcome anyone and everyone to point out any typos or grammatical problems to me, and appreciate those who do!


End file.
